Any Other Way to Be -- Scourgecest fic
by teenymeanie
Summary: You are Vriska Serket, and your relationship with your Scourge Sister is a little... complicated.


She is the reason you squirm uncomfortably in the dark, blind hands searching for skin, frantic, and the scraping, tearing, ripping down your neck, and the boiling air around you. She is the sweat between your bare chests, and the expert fingers pulling your head back by your tangled mass of hair. She is the lips on your throat and the moans they elicit, and the low-seated heat in your abdomen. You hate her. You scream this, to yourself, to the room, and to her. She knows. She says it back in a connect-the-dots game of dark bruises down your chest. She says it in the way she growls instead of sighs as your hands ravage every bit of her you can reach. Her shoulders, her back, her narrow hips, her toned thighs, each a place you'd like to equally like to press to your lips or scratch until teal bubbles to the surface.

Every night is like tonight—this confusing, horrible haze clouding your head, lowering your eyelids with a lust-filled gaze, setting your cheeks and chest ablaze with cobalt blue. You know it is wrong, so wrong, you don't have a quadrant together, more like three, more like a taboo mix, more like—oh god, you don't care, because her hands are on your hips and her nails are digging in and is that blood and she's lapping at it and giggling and her dagger-like teeth are on the lace of your underwear and your hands are everywhere, your hair, your breasts, her hair, her horns, your hips, and she is all you have ever wanted.

Your underwear is off and thrown shamelessly and when you try to close your legs, she's prying you apart and on you immediately. Her blank red eyes are looking straight up at you and as much as you'd love to watch, a flick of her tongue on the blue in her hand makes you arch, makes your toes curl into the carpet. You want to_ move already_, but she cackles and holds your hips down with both hands, stopping her delicious _whatever she was doing _to you and straddles you.

In the dark, you see the curve of her waist, the glint of a smirk, the sheen of red in her eyes towering over you, and it's all too much again and then the hint of heat at your crotch is suddenly all around you, and you bite back the string of expletives on the back of your hand before she steals it, settling your palms low on her hips and you squeeze. And she moves, _fuck yes_, she moves, and this time your groans rumble from your throat without resistance, and you can tell she's trying to hold it back, her sighs of pleasure, from the teal rising in her cheeks and neck and the look on her face with her head tipped back and her lip in her mouth. She's in Heaven like you are.

Your hands trail to her thighs and you scratch a path down in time with the roll of her hips, and the heat of her skin coming and going coming and going and you hiss, pressing into her and slamming her down on you all at once and she's making those sounds only you get to hear, and you fill the room with echoes and whispers of pleading, insults, curses, proclamations of love and hate all at once. Your quadrant is blurred, that's for sure, smudged as the sun peeking over the horizon, and just as forbidden as the way her teeth feel on your bottom lip when she lies beside you under the covers after a night like this. You love her, you hate her, you want to protect her, you want to rip her apart, heal her wounds and make her cry. You know she deserves better, deserves neatly arranged quadrants and perfect loves, but all the angst you share makes this, whatever it is, that much sweeter.

The heat in your abdomen burns and coils, and you speed up. She grits her teeth and screams your name, panting, scratching at your stomach and wilts as you slam into her, clutching her, shaking pathetically. You made a mess, but what do you care, when warmth runs up your spine and back down to your toes and the girl of your dreams and nightmares is rolling off of you, cuddling next to you, kissing your shoulder. Your feelings for each other are unconventional, uncommon, and don't fit how they should, like keys to a lock. No… It seems with her, you kicked down the door instead. But she's here, and she's _yours_, and you couldn't imagine another way to be.


End file.
